


(You Are) More Than They Say

by ravinilla



Category: VIXX
Genre: Adults Are Assholes, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, M/M, Slurs, Teenagers Can Be Assholes Too, of the sexual variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8123716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravinilla/pseuds/ravinilla
Summary: Taekwoon's grandmother likes to show him off. Taekwoon goes along with it because he has no other choice.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had a dream last night about a person I really used to like. In it, my grandma was keeping me around to show me off to a bunch of people? This isn't really like what happened in it, but I felt sad that I can't meet the person I used to like anymore, so I decided to work it out of my system. Enjoy! :^)

He knew he was there for one reason, and one reason only: to be a trophy grandson. No one had to tell him that his grandparents, rich, empiric businesspersons, wanted nothing more out of him than to show him off. It was their only connection because other than that, who wanted to deal with a bastard child born out of a poor deal gone wrong? His grandmother called him unfortunate, she didn't bother hiding that from him—said it to his face multiple times. Still, it didn't stop her from dragging him to every high societal function imaginable.

They were exhausting but for the greater good, Taekwoon kept his mouth shut and stayed the pretty pedestal boy he was told to be. His poor mother would be taken care of, and that was a good enough motivation.

Sometimes he was tested though, like now: an older man with greedy, wandering eyes spoke to him in a low tone—was it supposed to be impressive? Was he supposed to be an impressive man? Taekwoon found many of the people his grandparents associated with were . . . questionable, but he didn't examine it beyond that. They made him uncomfortable, sure, but it wasn't enough to send him running with his tail between his legs.

"Do you plan to follow in your grandmother's footsteps?" the man asked. He nursed a champagne flute in his hand, twirling it back and forth in some way that was supposed to be eloquent.

Taekwoon cocked his head, feigning innocence. "I'm not sure yet." he smiled pleasantly. "They've taught me many things, but it takes a lot to have me interested in anything." In other words: he didn't give a single fuck about his grandparents' work. He mainly wanted to go home for the night.

"Is that so?" the man continued, taking a sly step closer. Taekwoon didn't move, appearing unfazed. "Well, I'm sure they're wonderful teachers, but perhaps we could find someone else to be of more . . . _assistance?"_ His words were thick with insinuation and it was disgusting, but Taekwoon wasn't allowed to resist or make a scene. "I wonder if your grandmother wouldn't miss you _too_ much tonight if someone asked for you."

Repulsive. So many people around these places were just like this man: lecherous and in it for their own pleasure, their own gain. How was it that they could see him, a practical _child,_ as some sort of toy? He wanted to vomit all over the man's nice suit and see what he thought of him then, but the consequences to that stopped him.

_Patience . . ._ Because it certainly wasn't the first time he'd been through this.

The man raised his free hand to caress down the side of his face. Where was his grandmother to whisk him away to some other soulless adult to show him off?

"Hmm . . ." the man hummed, leaning closer. "You're very beautiful, aren't you? I suppose you must get it from your mother, that who—"

Taekwoon slapped his hand away. The man jerked and his flute fell from his hand, shattering on the floor. The people around them quieted, looking in their direction, but Taekwoon stood his ground. Utter _hatred_ burned in his eyes—how dare this _trash_ mention his mother, _insult_ her right in front of him.

"Insolent brat!" the man spat, infuriated. Taekwoon knew he might be in for some trouble because the man raised his hand as if to strike him.

Before he could though, Taekwoon was pulled back.

"There you are!" a voice deeper than his own said in his ear.

The man seemed to freeze. Startled, Taekwoon turned to see an unfamiliar teenager, maybe around his age, holding onto his arm as if they were close friends. He almost yanked himself back, but he spoke again.

"I was looking everywhere for you, I didn't know you wandered off to play with the corpses!" The boy laughed easily, and Taekwoon raised his eyebrows at the audacity. He turned back to the man who had been preying on him and he was burning with anger, undoubtedly wanting to beat both of them—but they had an audience and now clearly wasn't the time.

"See you later Mr. Park, thanks for taking care of my friend!" the boy waved insolently to the Mr. Park and then began to drag Taekwoon off, out of prying eyes.

On their way to wherever, the boy told a waiter to clean up the mess of the shattered glass and then instructed for Mr. Park to be removed from the party.

"Let go of me," Taekwoon snapped when they were in a secluded lounge. He yanked his arm back.

The boy frowned. "Hey, you don't have to be mean."

Taekwoon rubbed his arm protectively even though he wasn't hurt. His face was just hot and he was tired of being here. He bit the inside of his lip, an apology on his tongue, but he was too proud for it.

The boy didn't bother hiding his eye roll, but then he grinned. "I'm Wonsik," he introduced while fixing his suit jacket. His hair was shiny black, gleaming in the low light of their new location.

Taekwoon bowed his head slightly, self-conscious. "I'm Taekwoon." he replied quietly.

Wonsik made a sound of realization. "Oh, so you're Jung Taekwoon. Soojin's grandson, yeah?"

His face bloomed with a blush because apparently he was _known._ He should have figured his grandmother would never keep her mouth shut about the "rarely beautiful" grandson she had. Nausea screwed up his stomach that he really was nothing more than a show pony to her. So many sick people knew of him, had probably seen his photos . . . He suddenly never wanted to leave this room.

"You alright? You don't look so well." Wonsik commented. "Have a seat, I'll get you some water."

It was a tempting offer, but Taekwoon knew he had to return to the party. If he was nowhere to be seen for too long, his grandmother might bring about an awful aftermath.

He turned on his heel and began to leave the room.

"Are you sure?" Wonsik said as Taekwoon's hand grabbed the doorknob. "You don't have to make yourself do that."

"You have no jurisdiction." Taekwoon mumbled, mainly to himself.

Wonsik laughed like that was hilarious. "I kinda hope I would? This party is hosted by my family, after all."

Taekwoon drew up short. _That's_ why he might've recognized Wonsik's name. He was _Kim Wonsik,_ the heir to Kim entertainment empire that reached as far into business as agriculture. It was no wonder now why his grandmother wanted him to be up the ass of every guest present. This family was basically business world aristocracy.

"How come that man was perving on you so hard?" Wonsik asked, trying to coax him away from leaving.

Taekwoon weighed his options: leave and continue to be pursued by leches or stay and be in the presence of someone who could possibly make his mother disappear. Both options really had him wanting to jump out of a window. He sighed, tilting his head into the wood of the door. It was cool and did wonders for his overheated brain.

"Because I'm Jung Taekwoon."

"I know who you are."

"Then you should know why they act like that towards me."

"Sounds like it really sucks."

". . . It does."

"Well," Wonsik began, having moved behind him to place a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not a weird old guy trying to feel you up. Why don't you just stay in here with me until the party's over? It's not like they can make us come out." he laughed.

Taekwoon shrugged his hand off but didn't make a move to leave again. He looked back at Wonsik who grinned. He made staying sound like a much better option than his grandmother pawning him off some more for the rest of the night.

True to his word, Wonsik didn't act like a weirdo and neither of them had to leave. They put on music and drank sparkling juice and water, and Taekwoon felt more comfortable here than he had at any function like this before. Wonsik talked, but not about his family's business or anything related; more about himself and things he did with younger sister, or stuff he liked. He didn't ask Taekwoon to talk about himself because, well.

Everyone knew about Taekwoon's story. Still, it was nice to be treated like a human here than some sort of debauched display for everyone else's pleasure.

"So how old are you anyway?" Wonsik asked, changing the song playing from the surround sound speakers.

Taekwoon fiddled with his glass self-consciously. "I'm eighteen . . ."

"Ah," Wonsik laughed, though Taekwoon wasn't sure what was funny. "I should've asked earlier, you're a hyung then. I'm seventeen." His smile was cheeky.

Taekwoon wasn't very offended though; he felt more indebted to Wonsik than anything else, even if it was just a little. He knew Wonsik wanted to ask why he came to these things if he hated him so much, but since everyone knew the story of his mother, the answer wasn't that hard to figure out.

They talked for a long while about nothing in particular, making jokes about the society they entertained and all that. Taekwoon decided Wonsik wasn't bad at all, he was easy to breathe around.

The tides only turned when the door opened.

"Hey Wonsik, man, I knew you'd be in here." a voice called. They both looked over their shoulders to see another boy their age coming in. "Anyway, the whore's kid is missing from the scene, have you— . . . seen . . . him . . ." He trailed off when he spotted Taekwoon sitting next to Wonsik. His face turned cruel. "Would you look at that? Like mother, like son, huh? Wonsik, how'd you score—"

"Shut up." Wonsik bit before Taekwoon could. "What the hell is wrong with you, Eunsik?"

Taekwoon's face burned with humiliation and hatred. All of the people in this place were hideous and he wanted nothing to do with them anymore. He abuptly stood from the couch.

As he stormed out of the room, he purposely bumped shoulders with the jerk named Eunsik.

"Taekwoon, wait!" he heard Wonsik call after him, but it was too late. He slammed the door shut.

Taekwoon knew he had to keep a low profile now that he was out of the faux safety of the lounge with Wonsik. He just wanted to find his awful grandmother and ask permission to go home. He'd played his role in this disgusting place long enough.

He skirted around the edges of the vast hall, mostly keeping out of sight while searching between everyone for the familiar, conniving face of the woman who forced him to be here. It took him at least thirty minutes since he'd been stopped every five for a vaguely familiar face to chat him up for some useless reason or another. He managed to snake his way out of most of them—and then someone snatched up his wrist as soon as he spotted his grandmother.

"Make a single sound and I will not hesitate to make your life and the life of your mother's a living hell."

That voice, he recognized that voice—dread swept through him. It was Mr. Park.

_I thought he was—_

"You're coming with me."

Mr. Park tugged at his wrist and he desperately looked over his shoulder to see his grandmother fade into the crowd. He wanted her to see him—and more hatred flooded through him because _she_ did this. It was her fault. No one around him paid attention to the fact that he was practically being dragged from the room. In this world, they all only saw what they wanted to see.

The grip on his wrist was callous and cold, tight enough to cut off his circulation. He could barely catch his footing as Mr. Park yanked him down a hallway and in the direction of the bathrooms—more secluded ones, that was. Even if no one said it, he already knew what was going to happen. He wasn't strong enough to stop it, either. Panic and horror overtook his bloodstream and his hands were slowly growing clammy.

A door was thrown open and he was shoved in. He tripped to the floor, shoes surely being scuffed up. Mr. Park loomed over him with a fierce, dominant glare.

"Did you think being _friends_ with the Kim brat was going to protect you?" he growled,

Taekwoon backed himself up into the closest wall, plans for escape speeding through his head. His heart pounded in his ears. He clenched his eyes closed— _I can't cause a scene, I can't cause a scene._ This existence was an accursed one and it suddenly felt hopeless. He had no choice but to accept this as his fate.

Mr. Park yanked him up and slammed him against the wall. "This is what a _whore_ gets when they act all high and mighty," he spits, and then he jerks at Taekwoon's suit jacket, ripping the buttons. Taekwoon winced. "Do you think you're more than you are? You're not. You won't _ever_ be." His dress shirt was next and tears began to burn at his eyes. "You'll always be just. Like. Your pathetic. Mother." Last, his pants were jerked open.

The callous, painfully hot hand began to slide into his underwear, but before it could touch him, the door swung open—what a scandalous, vile scene it must've made: small Taekwoon, clothes ripped open, pressed into a wall by a man almost twice his size with his hand down his underwear . . . Like a sexual favor was taking place. He could already imagine the tabloids, and the harsh punishment that was sure to follow.

Shame drowned Taekwoon's face in heat and he quickly covered himself after taking the surprise as an opportunity to push the man off.

"I thought you were asked to _leave."_

It was Wonsik. For someone so young, his voice already commanded the venom of his family going in for the kill before him. Even Taekwoon was intimidated.

"I'm extremely afraid you'll _never_ have a place in this city again, Mr. Park." he snarled with all the ferocity of an angered animal. "Take him away."

Taekwoon hadn't noticed the security that aggressively hauled him from the room. His legs gave out below him and he slid down the wall, covering his face to hide his rapidly welling tears and humiliation.

Silence pervaded the bathroom, only outdone by Taekwoon's stifled cries and hiccups. Wonsik's shoes clicked across the tile until he squat down in front of him.

"Hey . . . You alright?" All the venom had left his tone and only gentle tenderness was left. Taekwoon was the older one here, he shouldn't be acting like this.

How had this night become such a nightmare? He only blamed himself.

"Taekwoon . . ." Wonsik murmured. He carefully reached his hand out.

Taekwoon could feel it and slapped it away. Wonsik's eyes widened but he didn't make another move. Instead, he steadily removed his own jacket and held it out.

"Yours is ruined." he said softly.

Taekwoon peeked up to see it, but debated heavily on taking it. Wonsik shouldn't associate with him; there was no doubt his grandmother wouldn't find a way to use him against him. He was right though, half of his buttons were gone and the shirt would button up no longer. He just wanted to go home.

He wasn't even sure if his mother was there, but he wanted to see her.

His trembling hand slowly closed around the fabric of Wonsik's jacket and it was let go. It fell easily around his shoulders and whichever cologne Wonsik wore momentarily swirled in his head. He inhaled a deep, calming breath and then used the wall to get to his feet.

Wonsik stepped back to give him space.

"I'm really sorry for what my cousin said earlier. He's an asshole with no filter." he apologized.

It wasn't anything new; Taekwoon shrugged, shaking his head and pulling the jacket tighter. The hem of his pants needed fixing too. There was no way he could face his grandmother like this. She would know he accidentally let things get out hand and that came with punishment.

"I'm used to it," he muttered.

Wonsik sighed. He then thought a moment.

"Come stay the night at my house." he asked. "You can get a night away from whoever you're avoiding and I can have your suit fixed."

It wasn't like Taekwoon couldn't have it fixed himself with no problem . . . Wonsik's offer was tempting, but, "No thank you. It would be suspicious. The Gorgeous Jung Taekwoon, son of a _whore,_ spending the night at the house of one of the richest children in Seoul? It's a disaster waiting to happen . . ."

Wonsik shook his head, eyes earnest. "Then I'll spend the night at your house. No one can object to that."

If he were honest, Taekwoon felt more comfortable with that. Wonsik was right: no one, not even his grandmother could reject that. He'd get to go home, and if he was lucky, he'd be able to see his mother. He felt comfortable with Wonsik too; it was a winning idea all around.

He finally looked up to meet Wonsik's gaze. ". . . Alright."

A pleased grin broke out on his face and he eagerly took Taekwoon's hand. "It's settled then. I'll spend the night at your house and everything will be fine."

Taekwoon stared at their joined hands a prolonged moment. Wonsik's palm was warm and welcoming; easily the nicest he'd felt in a long time from someone outside of his mother. He glanced up, almost shy, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Yes. Everything will be fine."

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I've been on a roll lately, but that must be a bad omen. :3c  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
